


Every Rose Has its Thorns

by BDBriggs



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Rated for minor violence and swearing, Slow Burn, i mean as slow of a slow burn as i am capable of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BDBriggs/pseuds/BDBriggs
Summary: Briggs works as a nanny, a nursemaid, for Prince Anduin. Well, sort of. When King Varian returns to Stormwind and is obviously interested in her, Briggs is determined not to flirt back. Well, sort of.Maybe she's gotten herself in a little too deep.





	1. Rose Bud

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to make a sort of AU for my OC, Briggs. In her backstory, she nearly becomes a bodyguard for Anduin (but ultimately decides to become an adventurer instead). I thought--what would happen if she accepted the position? Somewhere along the way it turned into a romance, surprising even me. 
> 
> Enjoy! =)

Briggs whistled a merry tune, if nothing else to annoy the guards outside her cell. Truth be told, she was _bored_. Perhaps she should have been scheming to escape the Stockades, but she knew the ins and outs of the place well enough to know that there was nothing she could do in her current position. She would wait for a trial as long as she could stand before resorting to more dangerous methods of escape. Briggs spent her time making sure her appearance was immaculate. She bathed with what water they gave her and washed her dress when she was allowed change of clothes. Her hair was tucked up neatly in a bun, secured by her favorite hairpin. She sat on her cot each day, whistling or singing or fiddling with the straw mattress to keep herself occupied. She would be ready for anything.

Besides, she hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Briggs worked as a nanny, a nursemaid, for Prince Anduin. She had been in the Prince’s rooms, folding his laundry, when three guards bound her wrists and led her down to the Stockades. They hadn’t even told her what she was being accused of, only that Lady Prestor had demanded her arrest. She and Lady Prestor had never really gotten along well, but Briggs had never acted out of line or spoken out against her, so she was left guessing as to what her crimes were.

And while Briggs was upset over her predicament, she was more worried for Prince Anduin. She could survive a few months in the Stockades. What was going on above that Lady Prestor felt the need to get rid of Anduin’s nursemaid?

The guards outside Briggs’ cell straightened suddenly. Briggs leaned back on her cot elegantly, never pausing her whistling. If they were going to reprimand her, she’d appear the very picture of innocence. Briggs frowned, however, when the guards saluted crisply to someone outside her cell. Was someone there to escort her to a trial?

“My lady,” one of the guards greeted. Briggs stopped whistling abruptly, shocked. Had Lady Prestor come down to speak to her? Briggs pursed her lips. If the Lady had come down to speak with her, personally, _in the Stockades_ …Briggs was in trouble. She couldn’t hear the muted conversation outside her cell, but the guard who had spoken nodded and handed a keyring to someone beyond Briggs’ line of sight. Briggs’ blood ran cold when both guards left entirely.

There was a heavy sigh from outside. Gloved hands unlocked the cell door and a cloaked woman finally came into view. Briggs raised a single brow at her. She would wait for Lady Prestor to speak.  

The woman smiled at her, instead, the quirk of lips barely visible from the shadows of her hood. Briggs barely suppressed a flinch when she raised her hands, expecting a spell, but the woman merely pushed her hood back. Blonde hair spilled out around the woman’s shoulders, not black; blue eyes twinkled at her, not red.

“Lady Proudmoore?” Briggs blurted in surprise.

Jaina laughed brightly. “Oh, it is good to see you, Briggs! I had feared for your life. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Briggs said, leaning forward, “but what happened? What are you doing in Stormwind?”

The smile faded from Jaina’s face. “It’s a long story. How long have you been in here?”

“I’m not sure,” Briggs frowned, “months, for sure. I was brought down here…May seventh, I believe. It was a Monday. I was folding Anduin’s laundry when I was bound and escorted here without being told what for.”

Jaina’s face twisted in anger. “You’ve been here over three months, then. I pray your children are alright!”

“My sister will have looked after them,” Briggs assured her, “I’m sure they’re worried for me, but they should be fine. What happened?”

Jaina sighed and crossed the room to sit on the cot beside her. “I’m not even sure where to begin,” she admitted.

Briggs shrugged. “Why not start with the day I was arrested?”

She listened as Jaina told her the events of the past months; discovering the gladiator Lo’Gosh was the missing King Varian, the concurrent return of a different Varian who was absolutely smitten by Lady Prestor, the re-discovery of both Varians’ memories, and then the battle with Lady Prestor—really the black dragon Onyxia. Jaina assured her that both the King, who had been fused back into one being, and the Prince were safe and sound after the whole ordeal.

“Lady Prestor must have suspected me and wanted me out of the way,” Briggs murmured. “I had wondered if that was the case.”

aina nodded. “So it would seem.” The mage stood and offered her a hand up, which Briggs took gratefully. “There are no charges against you, Briggs. You are free to make your way home. Will you be alright on your own?”

“Aye,” Briggs nodded, “when shall I return to work?”

Jaina hummed in thought. “Today is Wednesday. Come in on Monday? That should give you time to reunite with your family. I will tell the King to expect you, and I will see to it that you are compensated for the time you were held here.”

Briggs bowed. “You are too kind, my Lady.” She followed Jaina outside, parting ways at the Trade District. Briggs nearly ran to her sister’s inn, eager to be reunited with her family.

 

* * *

 

The next week, Briggs hummed to herself as she cooked. Anduin preferred porridge most mornings, but only if she made it her way. The cooks had all begged her to share her secret so they could make it for the Prince themselves, but Briggs had stubbornly refused. She’d take her secret—cinnamon and cooked apples—to the grave.

Leah, one of the elder cooks, grumbled good-naturedly at her. “The Prince was a right terror when it came to eating his breakfast,” she said. “If you would just let me see…”

Briggs laughed and gently hip-checked the woman out of the way. “Poor dear!” She exclaimed. “It’s a good thing I’m here to make it for him now.”

Leah snorted out a laugh and returned to where she was frying eggs. “You stubborn woman, you!” She chuckled. “I’ll figure it out one of these days. Do you want me to bring that up to the Prince, so you can get started on the laundry?”

“No, but thank you,” Briggs smiled, dishing out the porridge, “how will he know that I made it, that it’s not a trick?” She winked at Leah, who rolled her eyes. “Besides, I should introduce myself to the King before he leaves Anduin in my care.”

Briggs placed the bowl on the tray she had prepared and elbowed the door to the kitchens open. The King and Prince apparently broke their fast together in the morning, at the table in the King’s quarters. Briggs hastened up the steps so the porridge wouldn’t cool too much, careful not to trip on the hem of her dress. One of the guards opened the door for her when she arrived. The Prince’s back was to her, but she could tell that he was pouting; he was slouched in his chair, arms crossed, shoulders drawn nearly to his ears.

A large man she assumed to be the King had a bemused smile on his face. “I asked Mrs. Leah to make you porridge,” the King was saying, “but she said she didn’t have the ingredients. I’m sorry, Anduin. Will you please eat some eggs?”

Before Anduin could protest, Briggs swept up and placed the tray in front of him. “We had the ingredients after all,” she winked at the King, “my apologies for the delay.” Anduin gaped at her, prompting a concerned look from the King. Briggs gave them an exaggerated frown and made to pull the tray away. “Unless you changed your mind, and want eggs instead?”

Anduin launched himself out of his chair and into her arms, nearly squeezing the life out of her. “Briggs!”

Briggs laughed and hugged him back tightly. “It is good to see you! I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here for the last few months.” She set Anduin down, finally, and smoothed his hair out of his face.

“You are the lady who was locked away by Prestor?” The King asked. His grey eyes settled on hers, and Briggs looked down quickly before her gaze could be considered rude.

“Aye,” she nodded, “Briggs, at your service. Pleased to meet you, your Majesty.” She curtsied before turning back to the Prince. “Anduin, eat your porridge before it gets cold. I’ll be in your rooms, folding laundry.” She raised a brow at Anduin until he stuffed a bite of porridge in his mouth, and then left the room, too nervous to stay any longer.

              

* * *

 

She didn’t speak with the King again until he approached her at the end of the week, just as she was about to leave. “Ms. Briggs, if I may have a moment of your time?”

Briggs dipped her head. “Of course, your Majesty.” He beckoned her to follow him to his study. Briggs frowned when he closed the door behind them.  The King leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. Briggs winced and braced herself for the displeased speech that was sure to follow.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, oblivious to her distress. “Anduin obviously adores you. I took a look at our ledgers, and quite frankly, I don’t think you’re paid enough.” He paused, then, finally seeming to take in her worried expression. “Are…are you alright?”

Briggs nearly shook her head and said no, you pulled me into a secluded room, closed the door, and adopted a closed-off and menacing stance. No, I thought you were going to yell at me or fire me. She stood frozen for a moment before voicing that last thought. “I thought you were going to fire me, your Majesty.”

The King looked stunned, his eyes widening in shock, before he had the grace to look ashamed. “I—Oh, Light, I didn’t realize—I’m sorry, Ms. Briggs. I realize my actions seemed threatening.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Just—just Briggs is fine, your Majesty,” she said, still recovering from her distress.

“Briggs,” the King corrected. He nearly crossed his arms again, but gripped the edge of the desk instead. “I wasn’t going to fire you,” he assured her, “I was going to give you a raise. I looked at the ledger to see how much you were paid already and the amount is horrifically low, especially for someone who does as much work as you do. I wanted to bring you in to thank you and explain why you were getting such a steep increase.”

Briggs blinked, stunned. “Lady Prestor decreased the amount, your Majesty, I think to get me to find work elsewhere. My sister and I make enough to live on, and I enjoy working with the Prince too much to leave.” The truth was that, technically, Jaina paid her. Briggs received a low pay from Stormwind to begin with, to avoid raising suspicion that she was anything other than the Prince’s servant. However, Jaina had hired her, and Jaina paid her handsomely. Lady Prestor had indeed decreased her pay in an attempt to get her to leave, but Jaina had simply increased the amount she paid her to even it out. Briggs didn’t hurt for money in the slightest.

The King frowned. “I should have known she was responsible. In any case, your pay has been increased.”

Briggs bowed deeply. “Thank you, your Majesty. You are too kind.”

When she straightened, the King was still frowning, though he had a gentle look to his face. His voice was soft when he spoke. “You don’t need to fear me, Briggs. I apologize for scaring you earlier.”

“It is forgiven, your Majesty,” she smiled a little hesitantly at him.

The King smiled back, the first real smile she’d seen on him. It looked good, she noted, regardless of how it pulled at his scars. “Is there any way I could convince you to move to the Keep and work weekends, as well?” He asked.

Briggs chuckled softly. “I’m afraid not, your Majesty. I cannot neglect my own children. But I thank you for the offer.”

The King looked oddly sad at that, his smile fading. “I was unaware you had children to take care of,” he admitted. “You wear no ring on your left hand; forgive me for assuming otherwise.”

“I am no longer married,” she clarified, “but I have two children a little older than Anduin.”

The King’s brow furrowed, and he dipped his head. “I am sorry for your loss.” Briggs dipped her head in return, but said nothing. Her husband wasn’t dead, to her knowledge, but now was not the time to explain the ugly details of their separation. “I suppose I will see you Monday?” He held his hand out for her to shake.

Briggs grasped his hand firmly and nodded. “Aye, your Majesty. Until then.” She nearly bowed on the way out, but realized the handshake was probably to stop her from bowing. She left his study, collected her pay from the quartermaster on the way out, and headed home. She needed to go to Theramore to speak with Jaina.


	2. Blooming Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briggs talks with Jaina about the confrontation in the King's study and makes a decision.
> 
> She's very good at standing by important decisions that could decide the direction of her life. No, really!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The middle chapter! Lots of indecision on Briggs' part.

Briggs ran up the stairs of Jaina’s tower, grateful to be wearing a shirt and pants for once. The biggest downside to her job caring for the Prince was that she had to wear dresses. On her weekends off, however, she was free to dress as she pleased. Now, she wore a dark blue long-sleeved shirt, black leggings and boots, and a worn grey cloak.

Jaina spotted her immediately when she reached the top. “Briggs!” She greeted warmly, “it is good to see you.” Jaina waved her towards a chair, which Briggs sunk into gratefully. Jaina sat beside her. “What brings you to Theramore? Is everything alright?”

Briggs sighed heavily, but smiled. “I had an…interesting conversation with the King, the day before yesterday.”

Jaina’s eyes sparkled. “Oh? Do tell.”

Briggs narrowed her eyes. “Do you know something about it?”

Jaina grinned. “I might. Tell me your side, first.”

“He practically cornered me,” Briggs huffed, “pulled me into his study, closed the door, looked at me menacingly and told me…he was giving me a raise.” Briggs scowled when Jaina burst out laughing. “He saw the amount I was paid and tripled it. I…I don’t think you need to pay me, anymore, as the amount Stormwind pays me is just over my previous salary.”

Jaina nodded. “Alright. You let me know if that amount ever goes down, even slightly. You could have written a letter for that, though. What else happened?”

“Nothing, really,” Briggs said, “I’m just a little taken aback by the encounter.” She frowned. “He seemed genuinely upset that he’d startled me. He told me I didn’t need to be afraid of him, like I was a scared animal. His voice went all soft and everything. He shook my hand like he was afraid he’d break me.” Briggs huffed in exasperation. “So, if you know anything, tell me! I am at a loss.”

Jaina leaned in conspiratorially. “Yesterday, I went to Stormwind to visit and make sure things had run smoothly while you were there. Varian and I had a very interesting conversation about you,” She grinned. Briggs crossed her arms and waited. “Oh, don’t give me that look. As you said, Varian was upset that he’d scared you.”

Briggs frowned. “What does he think of me? I don’t know him well enough to read him.”

“You have managed to drive him up the wall in a single week,” Jaina said, her voice colored with laughter. “Don’t get me wrong; he thinks you are wonderful for Anduin and would never even think of replacing you, but he is thoroughly exasperated by the amount of times you bow, or curtsey, or call him ‘your Majesty’. He thinks you are kind and sweet, but he was also amazed by how firm you can be with Anduin. He also thinks you are beautiful, and asked me if I thought he could ask you out for dinner.”

Briggs snorted and did her best to smother her laughter. “Oh, _hell_. I should have known. He was more subtle than I realized. He asked if he could convince me to work weekends as well, to which I told him I had children. Ah, hell, he looked so sad! I should have realized.”

Jaina, damn her, burst into laughter. “So he thinks you’re married with children!”

Briggs held her head in her hands. “No, he thinks I am a widow! I told him I was no longer married, and he said, ‘I am sorry for your loss.’ I didn’t bother to correct him with the full story.”

Jaina wiped tears from her eyes. “Well, that is the funniest thing I have heard in a long time. I told him that you were not the type to date someone you just met. He should back off enough to give you time to figure out what to do about it.”

“Did you tell him anything about me?” Briggs asked.

Jaina shook her head. “I didn’t say much. I told him that you had worked in Theramore, and that I had gotten you hired, but I did not tell him the true nature of your job.”

“So we’re keeping it a secret from him, too,” Briggs murmured.

“Aye,” Jaina said, “we’re keeping it a secret from everyone. I’m upset that Lady Prestor caught on at all.”

Briggs shrugged. “She was a mage, right? She probably detected my hidden blade. There isn’t much I can do to avoid a mage’s detection spell. No matter where I hid my blade, she would have found it.” Jaina hummed in agreement. “I’ll keep my mouth shut to Varian, then. And…what in damnation am I supposed to do about his interest in me?”

Jaina chuckled. “Well, that depends. Are you interested in him?” Briggs swatted at her. “I’m serious! As long as it doesn’t compromise your ability to do your job, I don’t care what you do. What do you _want_ to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Briggs admitted. “I’m not sure I could enter a relationship with him not knowing my real purpose.” She sighed. “I suppose that’s my answer, then. Thank you, Jaina. I should go if I want to be back home in time for dinner.” She rose from her chair.

Jaina waved her off. “You’re welcome. If you need anything, do not hesitate to write to me or seek me out.”

Briggs saluted, walked back down the stairs, and pulled her hood back over her head. She shouldn’t flirt with the King, she knew. It would be much easier on both of them if she could do her job unhindered. Besides, she never wanted to have such a dark secret between her and a significant other.

With her mind made up, she returned to Stormwind.

 

* * *

 

Five months later, Briggs realized she was—excuse the pun—royally screwed.

The King had given her space since their initial encounter in his study. He was always kind to her, cordial even, but he never once flirted with her. Jaina never brought it up again, either, so Briggs had assumed she was safe. Perhaps she’d only let her guard down.

It had started out innocently enough. Briggs was helping in the kitchens, as she did every morning, when she heard heavy footsteps. She turned to see Reggie, one of the youngest royal guards, walk in.

Leah waved him towards a chair. “Anything I can get for you?”

Reggie grinned widely. “No, but perhaps Briggs could help me out?”

Briggs paused where she was chopping fruit for griddlecakes. Reggie was a notorious flirt, and she wanted nothing to do with his antics. The lad probably didn’t even realize she was a decade older than him. “I’m a little busy,” she said, “Leah can help you.” She dumped her pile of chopped strawberries into a bowl and set them on the tray of griddlecakes, next to the bananas and blueberries she had prepared.  

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Reggie said, feigning innocence. “Can’t I ask a pretty girl for something to eat?”

Briggs stiffened. She had planned on putting out raspberries, too, but she wanted _out_ of the kitchen. She grabbed the tray and strode past him. “No, you cannot. If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this upstairs.”

She nearly made it to the King’s quarters when Reggie appeared in front of her, blocking her path. “Oh, c’mon. What’s a guy gotta do to get your attention? All I want is a kiss, anyways.”

Briggs frowned at him. The _nerve_ of this boy. “Stand aside,” she said quietly.

“Not until you give me a kiss,” Reggie grinned at her.

Briggs could see the King’s door at the end of the hall. It was open, meaning he would be within earshot if she called for help. The royal guards stationed outside were watching them warily, but made no move to help her. Reggie was one of their number, after all; they likely wouldn’t interfere unprompted.

“I need to deliver these,” she insisted. “Stand. Aside.” Reggie leaned forward and puckered his lips. Briggs rocked backwards, away from him, and finally raised her voice. “The King will be very unhappy if his breakfast fails to reach him.”

Reggie straightened and glanced behind him at the King’s door, relaxing slightly when neither guard reacted. “I’ll move if you give me a kiss. Just a quick peck on the lips.”

Briggs wanted to scream. Oh, how she wanted to pull out her hairpin and stab him with it. The King finally emerged from his quarters, saving her the trouble.

“What’s going on out here?” The King demanded.

Reggie faltered and turned to face the King. “I apologize for disturbing you, your Majesty,” Reggie bowed, “the lady here owes me a kiss. I was only coming to collect it.”

The King raised a brow. “What does the lady have to say about that?”

Briggs smiled gratefully at him, which morphed into a wicked smirk when she turned back to Reggie. “I owe you _nothing_ , Reggie, save for a slap to the face. Be glad my hands are full. Feel free to _collect_ that later.” She brushed past him. “Your breakfast, your Majesty. Shall I set it on the table?”

The King nodded. “Yes, thank you.” Briggs slipped past him. As soon as she was safely inside, he added, “You heard the lady. You are dismissed.” Briggs set the tray on the table and took a deep breath to collect herself and still her shaking hands. Anduin was absent; the Prince must not have awoken yet. The King closed the door behind him and came to stand beside her. “Harsh,” he observed.

Briggs frowned. “Reggie is a notorious flirt. I do not care for his attentions, especially when he attempted to corner me.”

The King noticed her shaking hands and eased her down into Anduin’s chair with a gentle hand on her shoulder. He sat down in his own chair and scooted close enough to hover near her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” Briggs shook her head, “I’m just thoroughly annoyed. His attempt at flirting left much to be desired,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. She appreciated his concern, but was less shaken than he seemed to realize.

The King chuckled, finally leaning back. “What was he missing?” He teased.

Briggs rolled her eyes. “Everything?” The King laughed again. “Don’t start by asking ‘a pretty girl for something to eat’.”

The King outright snorted, covering his mouth at the last second. His shoulder shook with barely-contained laughter. “Light, he didn’t!”

Briggs grinned. “His words, not mine.”

The King laughed again and pulled his hands away from his mouth. “The terrible approach aside, he could have at least brought you flowers!”

Briggs leaned an elbow on the table. “Flowers would have been nice,” Briggs agreed, “although, you’d be surprised at how far you can get by asking a girl about her day. Even if it’s just small talk, it’s amazing what showing a little genuine interest can do.”

The King hummed in agreement. “Absolutely. Besides, you should never demand that someone cook for you as a date. You should always invite them to eat with you, not the other way around.” Briggs nodded. The King got an odd twinkle in his eye, then, and he smiled softly at her. “Eat with me?” He gestured to the yet uneaten griddlecakes and fruit.

Briggs hesitated. She considered the irony in that she’d brought the food to him—though she hadn’t technically _cooked_ it—but ignored it in favor of considering the fact that the King was openly flirting with her. She’d told herself, months ago, that she wouldn’t flirt back. She could turn him down gently with any excuse; she should rouse Anduin, the food wasn’t for her, she had work to do. She should turn him down. When she didn’t respond right away, he added, “I’ll have flowers next time, if you’ll forgive my lack of foresight to bring some.”

“Why?” She asked instead.

The King cocked his head to the side. “This may come as a surprise, but I enjoy your company,” he said earnestly.

“What about Anduin?” She asked. If he was smart, he’d know she was talking about more than just breakfast.

“I’ll talk to him,” the King promised, “though to be honest I already have, to some extent.” Briggs smothered a grin at the thought that the King had spoken with his son about—flirting with her? He must have given it serious thought, then. “Will you eat with me?” The King asked again.

Briggs smiled. “Very well,” she agreed.

As he passed her a portion of the griddlecakes, Briggs sighed internally, more bemused than unhappy. She was royally screwed.


	3. Thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the most beautiful roses have thorns. You just might prick yourself if you're not careful.

Things didn’t progress rapidly between them. They smiled at each other more often, and Briggs occasionally found a rose waiting for her in odd places. One morning she arrived in the kitchens to find a single rose laid out on the counter where she usually worked. A few days later Varian asked her to dust his study, and not only was his study already perfectly clean, but a rose waited for her on his desk. Then she found one atop a pile of fresh laundry she was going to fold. She found out Anduin was in on it when the Prince cut a rose from a bush and handed it to her one Friday evening, a big grin on his face.

“My father was going to give this to you before you left, but he’s stuck in a meeting that has run late,” he explained.

Briggs grinned back, a light blush coloring her cheeks and nose. “Thank you,” she accepted the rose, “and be sure to thank him for me.”

Anduin nodded. “Should we get back? I didn’t really leave something in the gardens, I just needed to give you a rose before you left,” he admitted.

Briggs laughed, bright and bursting. “We can leave whenever you like. The kids are with my sister; she’ll feed them tonight.”

Anduin grinned and ran further into the gardens. “Do you think there will be rabbits out at this time of day? I want to see a rabbit!”

“It’s possible,” Briggs hummed, following at a more sedate pace, “I’m not sure they spend much time in these gardens, but they are certainly common this time of day.”

The bushes to Anduin’s left rattled, and the Prince shouted with glee. Briggs laughed and sat on a bench, content to watch the young Prince frolic about. She looked down and admired the rose in her hands. It was still covered in thorns, as Anduin hadn’t thought to remove them, but it was a pretty thing; its soft red petals were just beginning to open up, and it smelled sweet when she lifted it to her nose.

A sharp yelp startled her, making her jump. She pricked her finger on one of the thorns. “Anduin?” She called. There was no response. Her gut twisted in worry. Briggs set the rose down on the bench and hurried to where she had last seen the Prince. “Anduin?” She called again, “are you alright?” As she turned the corner, something heavy hit her in the head, and the world went black.

 

* * *

 

When Briggs came to, it was dark. Night had fallen. She lay on a bedroll on her right side, her hands bound in front of her, and her head hurt like hell. She opened her eyes a fraction. Someone—Anduin, she assumed by the mop of blond hair—lay in front of her, curled towards her. Beyond him, six men were clustered around a campfire. A number of tents and bedrolls were scattered around the fire, more than six men would require. There must be more elsewhere, Briggs noted. The men at the campfire spoke quietly enough that she couldn’t make out the words. 

Anduin twitched beside her. In the dim light of the campfire, she could see blood in his blond hair.

Briggs closed her eyes and leaned towards him slowly. “Stay still,” she whispered into his hair, “we’ll be alright. Pretend to be asleep as long as you can, and then pretend to be dazed and injured by your head wound. Don’t worry about me.” Anduin nodded ever-so-slightly.

They waited silently until at last footsteps approached them, and a hand shoved at her roughly. “Wake up,” the man grumbled.

Briggs feigned surprise when she opened her eyes. “Wh—where am I?” She asked, voice wavering. “What happened?”

The man in front of her wore a red bandana over the lower half of his face. The men were Defias thugs, then. He snorted at her. “Looks like we caught his nanny, too,” he taunted. “Wake him up. We want to talk to him.”

Briggs wiped at her eyes and gently shook the Prince. “My Prince?” She called, “Wake up, lad.” Anduin showed no signs of stirring. “Please, wake up!” She shook his shoulder a little harder. When that failed, too, the man slapped him harshly across the cheek. “No, stop!” Briggs cried.

Anduin blinked his eyes open blearily and rolled onto his back. “Mm…Father?” He slurred up at the man. “Wha’appened?”

Another man approached them. “It’s no good,” he said. “Derek hit ‘im too hard.” The first man slapped Anduin again, harder, getting only a weak groan for his trouble. Briggs cried at him to leave the Prince alone. The second man pulled him back roughly. “Hitting him harder isn’t going to make it better. Leave him. We’ll just have to use him for ransom instead. You!” He looked at Briggs. “Can you heal him?”

Briggs wiped her tears and shook her head. “I’m no priest,” she said, “only a nursemaid.”

The man grunted. “We don’t want him in bad condition. What do you need to fix him?”

Briggs frowned. The gash in Anduin’s forehead looked bad, but it wouldn’t kill him if treated properly. “Water and bandages.” And if the brutes were keen on hitting him more, she’d need to get him out of here quickly. She didn’t want to know what price they’d demand as a ransom for him. She bit her lip. She needed to act, and quickly. “Um, sir, I need to relieve myself, too.”

The first man sneered at her, but the second nodded. “Jack, take her to the river to do her business. Fill a couple jugs with water while you’re there.”

Jack grunted and pulled her up roughly by the arm. They trudged through the forest towards the river, which was unfortunately within earshot of the camp. It was horribly dark, but Briggs could see well enough by the light of the moon, and she could still see the light of the campfire through the trees. Jack shoved her towards the river and turned his back. “Hurry it up.”

Briggs walked over to the river and stood by the bank. Instead of lifting her skirt to relieve herself, however, she lifted her hands to her hair and tugged at her hairpin. The pin itself stayed in place, but the small blade it sheathed came free. She cut the ropes on her wrist, despite the awkward angle, and dropped them into the water with a small splash. Then she snuck towards Jack, steps perfectly silent. She reached around him to slit his throat with the knife and eased him to the grass with hardly a sound. After wiping her blade on his bandana, she crept back towards the camp.

Concealed by shadows, Briggs waited. She didn’t have a lot of time before their absence was noticed and someone came looking, but she wanted to find the other men before she attacked the camp. Three others were visible on her side of the camp, and after a few minutes a fourth jumped down from the trees and headed off towards the river where she had come from. She followed him to the river, where he tripped over Jack’s corpse. Briggs lunged forward and slit his throat, too, but not before he shouted in alarm.

Briggs dove back into the brush. The three sentries she’d spotted came running into the clearing, swords brandished. Briggs grit her teeth. As soon as one of the sentries stepped close enough, she leapt upwards and sliced at his throat. One of the two remaining sentries charged towards her, sword raised. She danced out of the way, darted forward, and slit his throat as well. The third sentry fled back towards camp. She flung her knife towards him, smiling grimly when it lodged itself in his throat and he collapsed to the forest floor, dead.

Briggs collected her knife and cleaned it off on a shred of her dress. The bottom of her dress was already ruined from her walk through the brush, even more so from when she dove into it. She cut a slit in the dress up to her knee on the right side to give herself a greater range of movement. She’d need it; the next fight would get ugly. She picked up one of the sentry’s swords and brought it with her back to camp.

This time when she snuck up, the five remaining men were armed and deep in a frantic conversation. They knew something was wrong. Anduin still lay on the bedroll, feigning sleep, his back to her. Briggs knew she had the advantage of surprise, but it wouldn’t last forever. At best she could take out two of them before the rest responded. She had to move quickly, though, before the thugs hurt Anduin further.

She hung the stolen sword by the belt on a low tree branch on the edge of the camp. She’d prefer it to her tiny blade, but she wanted to move as quickly and quietly as possible, and a longsword would hinder her ability to do that. With luck, she’d be able to run back towards it and draw it if she needed to. That would unfortunately bring the men closer to Anduin, but she had no other place to hide it. She hoped fervently that there were no other sentries on the other side of the camp. She adjusted her grip on her blade, covering the hilt with her fingers and tucking the blade against her wrist. If there were sentries, they wouldn’t see the blade, and hopefully wouldn’t kill her on sight.

With a deep breath, Briggs crept forward. She snuck around the camp, using the tents as cover, stopping when she made it as close to the campfire as she could while unseen. She clutched her blade tighter, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

The bushes rustled.

The five men went silent. Briggs froze and glanced towards the sound. Had a sentry seen her? She scanned the trees and the brush. There was nothing out of the ordinary. The light of the campfire glinted off the leaves in one spot, but nothing moved.

“Who’s there?” One of the men spat.

Briggs glanced at Anduin. He appeared asleep, but his face had angled towards her at some point. He must have spotted her while she crept across the camp.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” another man taunted. Footsteps came dangerously close to her hiding spot until she could see the toe of a boot peek out from behind the tent. The bushes rustled again and the man turned towards the sound, exposing his back to her.

Briggs pounced. She slit his throat, not caring where his body fell, and lunged towards the nearest thug. She sliced his throat and whirled towards the last three, who still stood by the campfire. They wore matching expressions of shock, their eyes wide and jaws slack. Briggs grit her teeth and ran towards them. They were better prepared, as she had expected, and the thug she attacked dodged her strike easily. The man to her left, however, was taken off guard when she swiped at him instead, and he went down. Briggs rolled out of the way of a sword and slashed upwards. Judging by the pained yell, her knife made contact with one of them. She stood, spun out of the way of another swipe, and kicked her attacker towards the fire. She turned towards the thug she’d wounded and finished him off. The man she’d kicked towards the fire stood from where he’d apparently dove to the side to avoid getting burnt. She twirled her tiny knife in her hand, hoping to intimidate him into backing up instead of closing with her. Even better than she’d hoped, he turned and fled. With a flick of her wrist, the knife embedded itself in his neck. The camp went silent, save for the crackling fire. Briggs focused on breathing deeply to calm the erratic beating of her heart.

“What the _hell_?” A voice from Anduin’s side of the camp made her spin on her heel, breath catching in her throat.

King Varian stood, dressed in full armor, sword in hand. His eyes were blown almost comically wide. Anduin sat up from the bedroll, a similar expression painted on his face.

Briggs sighed. She hadn’t expected to keep her secret when she’d noticed Anduin watching her, but she also hadn’t expected the King to have witnessed her slaughter five thugs. She realized the rustling in the bushes must have been him—the light in the bushes she’d seen wasn’t the light of the campfire, but his sword Shalamayne’s red glow. She bent down to retrive the knife from the thug’s neck and ripped a piece of her dress off to wipe it on. When it was clean, she sheathed it back in her hairpin.

At last, she turned back to the King. “In my defense, it was not my idea to keep this from you.”

The King frowned, but sheathed his sword. “Whose idea was it?”

“Jaina’s,” Briggs told him. He blinked in shock, so she hurried to explain. “I’m a mercenary. I did some work in Theramore and befriended her years ago. When she learned I was both tough _and_ good with children, she asked me if I was interested in becoming a plainclothes bodyguard for Anduin. I accepted. Lady Prestor was the only one to ever suspect me, and I think she detected my hidden blade with a spell.”

“Why wouldn’t Jaina tell me?” The King demanded.

Briggs shrugged. “I think she was concerned, for a while. You’d been enthralled by Prestor’s magic before. I cannot fault her for erring on the side of caution. I am sorry, though, that I had to deceive you.”

The King sighed and looked down. “So everything was a lie?” He asked. He sounded forlorn.

“I have never lied to you, your Majesty,” Briggs said. She approached him slowly. “I may not have told you the whole truth, but I have never lied to you.”

The King shook his head as if to clear it and turned away from her. “Anduin, are you alright?”

Anduin stood shakily. “They hit me a few times. That’s all.” The King moved forward and scooped him into his arms. “I’m okay, father, really.”

“The healers will decide that,” the King said. “We’re not too far out from the city. Let’s get you home.” He glanced over his shoulder at Briggs. “In case anyone asks, the story is that an adventurer killed them and saved you two before I reached you. Got it?”

Briggs dipped her head. “Thank you, your Majesty.” She followed him into the dark forest, towards Stormwind.

 

* * *

 

When she and Anduin had been seen to by a healer, and the latter sent to bed, the King beckoned her towards his study. He closed the door behind them, sat at his desk, and put his head in his hands.

“Are you going to fire me this time?” She asked, only partially teasing.

The King snorted and lifted his head. “No. Jaina asked you to be a bodyguard, and you’ve done a damn good job of it. You and he sport matching gashes on your head, and yet you fought off five—at least five men on your own with a dagger smaller than my pinky.” He wouldn’t look at her, his eyes trained on his desk.

Briggs rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “There were ten. I did what I had to do.” They lapsed into silence. Briggs sighed. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have insisted to Jaina that I tell you, especially after—after our breakfast.” The King stood and strode over to her, but didn’t speak, so she continued. “I—I told you, I never actually lied to you. I’m still…me. The only difference is that I know how to hold my own in a fight, and that I’m here to protect Anduin. I’m sorry I’ve made you angry.”

The King came to a stop in front of her and finally met her eyes. “I’m not angry with you,” he said softly. “Briggs—I cannot help but see you differently after tonight. I watched you—” He broke off and shook his head, “I thought you were…I don’t know, fragile. The week we met, you were so startled by me. Jaina told me—” He broke off again. “I just—” He sighed and pursed his lips.

Briggs frowned. “You…you think of me as a different person. I’m not what you thought I was, and that changes things.” She sighed yet again. She had known from the beginning that keeping the truth from him would only end in heartbreak for the both of them. “I understand—”

“Do you have any idea how badly I want to kiss you?” The King cut her off, leaning into her space. Briggs gaped at him for a moment. He rested his hands on her arms, just above her elbows. “I—I don’t think any less of you, Briggs. If anything, I think more highly of you. I—you are—you are wonderful. You are so sweet and kind to Anduin, you are usually gentle but firm when you need to be, and you are a force to be reckoned with in a fight. That was _amazing_ to watch. There is no one I would rather have at my side.”

Briggs gazed up at him, eyes wide. That was _not_ what she had expected him to say. He rested his forehead against hers for a brief moment before pulling back to look her in the eyes again.

“The guards said they’d seen the two of you in the gardens. When you two were nowhere to be found and I saw the bloody rose on the bench, I…” He trailed off and shuddered. “I thought I’d lost you both.”

Briggs frowned. “Anduin gave me the rose, from you. He didn’t think to remove the thorns. I pricked myself on it,” she admitted. “I was fine until I heard him yelp and I went to investigate.” He frowned down at her, so she tried to reassure him again. “Your Majesty…”

“Varian,” he murmured. “Please, at least when we’re in private.”

“Varian,” she corrected, “I’m alright. I’m a little scraped and bruised, but I’ll be fine.” He brushed his lips against the scrape on her forehead. “I promise.”

He pulled back and gazed into her eyes again. He settled one hand at the small of her back and cupped her cheek with the other. “May I?” He murmured.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Briggs said with a soft smile. Varian leaned down and brushed his lips against hers gently. Briggs wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned back to ease the angle on his neck. They kissed and kissed and kissed, his lips gentle but firm against hers. When they pulled back for air, Briggs buried her face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, pressing kisses into her hair.

After a few minutes, Varian pulled back. “As much as I’d love to continue this, it is an ungodly hour in the morning, and we should both get to bed. May I walk you back to your home?”

Briggs nodded. “My home is on the other side of Elwynn forest, but my sister’s inn is in the Trade District. I’m sure I can stay there for the night.”

Varian pressed one more kiss onto her lips before pulling a cloak off of the rack by the door and draping it over her shoulders.

As they walked along the Canals in the cool night air, Varian hummed in thought. “Perhaps Reggie should take notes? Clearly, I had the superior technique,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Briggs burst out laughing. “You were right about the flowers,” she admitted.

“The heartfelt admission probably helped, too,” Varian nudged her gently with an elbow.

Briggs hummed in agreement. She lowered her voice, so a passing guard couldn’t hear her. “Though it’s not like you planned for Anduin and I to be captured.” She raised a playful brow at him. “Unless you wanted a chance to rescue the damsel in destress?” She winked.

Varian held up a hand to cover his snicker. “Yes, I paid Defias bandits to kidnap my son and his nursemaid, so that I could rescue them dramatically,” he deadpanned, voice equally low.

Briggs grinned. “Well, it backfired spectacularly, in that case.”

“I’m heartbroken over the result,” Varian said, voice dry. He snuck a glance around before quickly pecking her on the lips. The rest of the walk passed in silence, until she came to a stop and he blinked in surprise. “This is your sister’s inn? I know a number of guards who frequent it.” At Briggs nod, he smiled. “Get some rest, Briggs. It’s late. I’ll see you Monday?”

“Of course,” Briggs smiled. She’d have kissed him if they hadn’t been in easy view of the nighttime guards. “Good night, your Majesty.” She winked and curtsied, laughing when he rolled his eyes in exasperation. She slipped inside, closed the door, and leaned against it.

All of her breath escaped her in a whoosh. Thankfully there were no patrons still downstairs to see her. She outright giggled, a rush of joy coursing through her. The King had kissed her! He’d held her and admitted he had feelings for her!

Soft footsteps creaked on the stairs. Her sister came into view, dressed in a nightgown. “How can I help y—Briggs! You’re back! Are you—Light, are you alright?”

Briggs took stock of her own appearance. Her dress was torn and shredded all along the bottom, with an obvious slit going halfway up the side where she’d cut it. She was covered in dirt and blood, not all of which was her own. Her hair was falling out of her usually immaculate bun, a consequence of sheathing and unsheathing the blade in her hairpin. She’d lost her shoes somewhere in the forest, and Varian’s comically over-sized cloak was draped haphazardly across her shoulders.

Despite her nearly feral appearance, she was happier than she’d been in months. Years, even.

Briggs grinned at her sister. “Never better,” she winked.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much fun this was to write. If you got this far, thank you for reading!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you have questions or comments, hit me up! =D


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